


there's a new day dawning, there's a new life for us

by brodinsons (aeon_entwined)



Category: Aquaman (2018), DC Extended Universe
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, MerMay 2019, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-02-15 23:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 7,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18679876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeon_entwined/pseuds/brodinsons
Summary: This is a chaptered collection of ficlets inspired by the fandom tradition of MerMay. In this case, using thetemplateprovided by the exceptionally generous TKodami.Rating will likely change, tags/characters will be added, buckle in!





	1. Flower Crown

Arthur’s standing on the grassy hill overlooking Amnesty Bay when Mera comes sauntering over with something badly hidden behind her back. Arthur doesn’t bother craning his neck to find out what it is, but he does raise an eyebrow at her.

“April showers bring May flowers.” She tells him with a smile. “Or so your surface people say.”

Arthur chuckles, not having heard that particular idiom in years. “Do they, now?” 

He glances over her shoulder and catches sight of a collection of petals and flowers, though he can’t quite tell what purpose they’re going to serve. He aims a mildly perplexed look at her, and only gets a finger pressed to her lips in answer.

“Go talk to your brother. Keep him distracted.”

Ah.

“You know the ocean isn’t gonna disappear if you quit staring at it, right?” Arthur ambles up onto the porch and slings his arms onto the railing where Orm is leaning and staring out at the sunset.

Orm doesn’t answer immediately, though he seems to give the statement some thought. “Of course I know that,” Orm replies, completely oblivious to Mera creeping up behind them from inside the house. “Just because it will always be there doesn’t mean I do not feel out of place here.”

Arthur frowns faintly. He can certainly empathize with the discomfited feeling. He was the same way when Mera first dragged him down to Atlantis. Now it’s Orm’s turn. 

“I know, little brother,” he sighs, tipping sideways to let his head fall onto Orm’s nearest shoulder.

Then, with a delighted snicker, Mera’s hands flash into their field of vision and plop a wreath of fresh flowers onto Orm’s head. Orm promptly freezes where he stands, blinking in confusion while Arthur straightens back up and turns to grin at him properly.

“You look _adorable_ , Ormi.” Arthur tells him, leaning in to press a quick kiss to the corner of Orm’s mouth.

The gesture only seems to add to Orm’s consternation, and Arthur can’t help but lean in to plant a proper kiss on him while Mera laughs delightedly in the background.


	2. Pink Lagoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Las Coloradas](https://theculturetrip.com/north-america/mexico/articles/las-coloradas-a-guide-to-mexicos-magical-pink-lagoon/), for anyone who'd like some extra reading.

When Arthur first takes Orm to visit Las Coloradas, he has no idea what to expect. Will Orm fly into a rage and accuse humans of poisoning the water? Will he try to “rescue” all the brine shrimp partially responsible for the distinct color of the lagoons?

As it turns out, Orm picks neither option.

Arthur leads him across the sandy dunes to one of the larger bodies of water and watches with no small amount of amazement as Orm proceeds to walk down the slope on his own and promptly sit right down in the pink shallows. He spreads his hands out on either side of him in the water and tips his head back, almost like he’s meditating. Arthur finds himself struck by how peaceful he looks.

“Are they talking to you, too?” Arthur asks carefully, wading into the water until it’s up to his knees.

“No,” Orm replies almost instantly, though he makes no physical move to acknowledge Arthur’s presence beside him. “I don’t have your particular skills. I’ve heard of this place for years, but I never visited myself. It’s...remarkable.”

Arthur blinks at that, but doesn’t feel a need to comment further. If Orm’s decided to call something this close to human civilization “remarkable”, he’s certainly not going to argue. Anyways, it’s a pretty fair statement. He understands the biology and chemistry that gives the lagoons their strikingly unique color, but it’s more fun to just take it in as it is.

Pink lagoons. They look like something out of the cartoons he used to watch on Sundays on Tom’s shitty television set, only they exist in real life.

As the silence stretches, Arthur starts to fidget and uses the top of his bare foot to flip some water in Orm’s direction. As luck would have it, it catches Orm full in the face, prompting him to snap out of his meditative trance and immediately lunge up from the water like an uncoiling snake. Arthur barely has a chance to brace himself before Orm brings them both splashing down into the shallows, his drenched blond hair falling into wild blue eyes.

“You are a _child_ ,” Orm growls, looming over his brother.

Arthur offers a sheepish grin, then slides his arms around Orm’s middle, pulling him down so they’re skin to skin from the waist up.

“Yeah,” he says, staring into eyes softening by increments the closer he gets to Orm’s face. “But where’s the fun in growing up?”


	3. Hot Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating change! Proceed with caution!

There are places in Atlantis located close to undersea lava vents—similar in nature to the outcrops that form the Ring of Fire—that have become popular gathering places for locals and the elite alike. The hollowed out pools furthest from the palace are usually frequented by average citizenry, while those within and on the perimeter of the palace are reserved for highborns and the newly-returned royal family.

Arthur’s taken it upon himself to find the newest ones that haven’t hit the word on the streets yet, not because he wants to have them first, but because he knows the upper crust of Atlantis still wants nothing to do with him if they can help it and he’s not sure how the general population has taken the return of Atlan’s fabled weapon in the hands of a bastard. Sure, no one’s gonna say anything _out loud_ but he’s still working on being comfortable down here, let alone figuring out how to moderate himself for a populace in the millions.

So, he went and found yet another barely used pool on their northern borders, and decided to drag Orm with him. Just because.

“I’ve almost died in the Ring of Fire more times than there are pools across the kingdom,” Orm sighs, affecting boredom as Arthur tugs him into the smooth carved out space. “You’re not very revolutionary, here.”

“Oh, shush.” Arthur settles his rear on the neat shelf and holds both hands out towards his brother, carefully sidestepping the minefield of old wounds tucked away in Orm’s admission.

Orm heaves another long-suffering sigh, but pushes against the water so he can cross the pool and climb astride Arthur’s lap. “You are an unrepentant hedonist.”

Arthur grins, as wide and shit-eating as he can make it. “You bet your perky ‘lil ass I am. Why do you think I’m looking for the ones nobody else goes to?”

“Because you’re uncouth, spoiled-“ Orm pauses in order to duck his head and deliver a biting kiss to Arthur’s lips. “-and completely unprepared for anyone telling you ‘no’.”

Arthur’s hands find their way to his brother’s hips, squeezing firmly as he goes in for another kiss.

“You sure about that? Kinda sounds like you’re talking about yourself, little brother.”

Orm straightens up where he’s perched, hands braced on Arthur’s bare shoulders as he offers a silent but imperious look in reply.

Arthur laughs, sliding both hands up and down Orm’s sides in a practiced gesture that calms that easily-ruffled ego better than anything. “Yeah, yeah…” he murmurs, giving Orm the best _come hither_ expression he can muster. “No lip from me when I’m trying to get some action.”

Already somewhat mollified by the heated water and their proximity, Orm gives a satisfied purr at that, and promptly leans down to kiss him again. Only this time, he slides one hand down Arthur’s bare chest and doesn’t stop until he can slip said hand under the waistband of Arthur’s pants. He curls those long talented fingers around his brother’s cock and _squeezes_ , relishing in Arthur’s quick startled gasp against his lips.

“That’s right, brother mine,” he hums, tracing his tongue over Arthur’s bottom lip as he uses his wrist to jerk down and simply snap the button and zipper open.

“Woah-“ Arthur laughs breathlessly against Orm’s lips, though his hands don’t do anything but tighten on his brother’s waist. “I gotta wear these back home, man.”

“Perhaps you should have considered that before luring me out here.”

Orm strokes his brother firmly, possessively, and watches with an intense feeling of satisfaction blooming in his chest as Arthur’s mouth falls open on a quiet moan and he completely surrenders himself over. The shudder that wracks Arthur’s body moments later almost unseats Orm, but he moves with it with the expertise of a seasoned rider.

He withdraws his hand, then cups a handful of Arthur’s release in the warm water and draws it up so he can lap it off his fingers. Arthur’s dazed eyes stay on him the entire time and Orm can’t resist ducking down again to slip his tongue into Arthur’s mouth and share the taste with him.

“Fuck, I love you,” Arthur mumbles, reaching up to tug weakly at the hair at Orm’s nape.

“And I, you,” Orm murmurs, pulling back just enough to rest their brows together.


	4. Lionfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Yes, lionfish are edible even for humans, and it's encouraged that we eat them because they're a dangerously invasive species for other endangered types of fish.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pterois)

Contrary to popular belief, Arthur isn’t averse to eating seafood. 

No Atlantean is, since their diet is almost exclusively seafood to begin with. Arthur’s specific abilities are unique among the kingdoms, though not unheard of. They’ve manifested in the occasional royal now and then. 

He enjoys salmon and tuna and halibut as much as anyone, though it does get a little old when Barry keeps flipping through pictures of random fish on his phone and asks if he’ll eat them. When Barry lands on a picture of a lionfish and gleefully asks if they eat poisonous ones too, Arthur makes a face.

All of a sudden, an idea manifests itself.

“Hey, Ormi,” he calls across the workshop, earning a scowl for using the nickname in public. “Why don’t you tell Barry how we deal with these buggers?”

Orm looms over Barry before glancing imperiously at his phone screen. Then, he smirks.

“Those are considered a delicacy in Atlantis,” he says, crossing his arms as Barry gives them both a suspicious look. “Properly filleted, the venom is harmless. Both to our kind and yours. But we prefer them raw.”

He offers a sharp smile, all teeth, and glides away to his little table of disassembled weaponry. Though not before Arthur sneaks in a quick smack to his rear as he passes. 

Barry takes a moment to process that, then looks back to Arthur. 

“Wait, was he serious? You guys really eat them? Spines and all?”

Arthur rolls his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug. “I’m no expert, remember. I’m still learning the ropes.”

He ambles away towards where Bruce and Diana are frowning over some blueprints and chuckles to himself when he catches Barry’s hushed “holy shit” in the background.


	5. Masks

The first time they ever met involved masking everything but the barest emotions so they didn’t inadvertently leave a vulnerability open to be exploited. Arthur tried to find a crack in Orm’s armor and maybe avoid a showdown to the death, but he couldn’t help himself from taking a potshot while he could. Orm’s implacable wall came slamming back down and that’s all Arthur remembered until he faced him again on the belly of the overturned Xebellian warship.

That time, it was a literal mask. All silver steel and sharp points and red glaring eyes that only reminded Arthur of his worst failure to date.

Now, tangled up in the warm sheets of his bed in the lighthouse, Arthur counts himself the luckiest bastard on the planet that they don’t have to worry about hiding behind blank glares or steel armor anymore. He traces his index finger along Orm’s cheekbone, smiling as his brother stirs with a jaw-cracking yawn.

“You’re being strange, again.” Orm accuses once he’s coherent enough to focus on Arthur’s face. 

Arthur chuckles, moving to trace the sharp angle of Orm’s jawline instead. “Just trying not to take any of this for granted. That’s all.”

Orm watches him silently for a little while, either digesting that or formulating his own thoughts about it. Or both. He shifts closer once he’s made a decision, craning his neck up to place a chaste kiss on Arthur’s lips.

“If you try any harder, you’ll be in danger of being accused of indulging excessively,” Orm sighs, gazing intently at him. “You have everything you’ve ever wanted, Arthur. No tricks, no lies. It’s all real.”

Arthur frowns a bit, and reaches out to curl a hand over Orm’s nape. “What about you, little brother?”

“What about me?”

“What about what you want?” Arthur says, somewhat pointedly.

Orm considers that for a moment. “I have a life I couldn’t have dreamed of. I have Mother. I have you.”

Arthur pulls him into a lingering kiss, then presses their brows together. “I haven’t deserved a bit of it but you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”


	6. Fancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The undersuit in question can be found in the second gif [here](https://brodinsons.tumblr.com/post/184354529730/patrickwilsoned-going-deep-into-the-world-of).

Sure, he got a shiny brand new suit of armor to wear out of the whole mess, but Arthur isn’t too fond of it. It’s snug in some places, pinches in others, restricts his mobility, and the gauntlets are fucking ridiculous. He can’t lift a hand to gesticulate in conversation without risking poking someone’s eye out with the flared green points. Yes, it’s _traditional_ to wear the suit while serving as king, but it’s fucking uncomfortable and Arthur sneaks off to change into his surface clothes more often than not.

That’s the part that apparently drives Orm up a wall. 

Tradition is very important in Atlantis, and magic trident or not, Arthur knows he represents a massive upheaval of centuries of said tradition by sitting on the throne and existing as a halfbreed bastard in a position of unquestionable power.

“Dude, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Don’t _dude_ me, Arthur,” Orm huffs, slipping around behind him to tug at the suit’s fastenings. “If you refuse to wear the armor for anything but ceremonies, there has to be a compromise. This is the most comfortable alternative that exists.”

Arthur makes an incoherent noise of mingled frustration and exasperation. Granted, the undersuits Mera and their mother favor are miles more comfortable than the king’s armor, so he can’t exactly argue the point. But it’s still a skintight suit of neoprene-like material with scales all over it. Doesn’t really leave much to the imagination. Especially on the bottom half.

Then again, it’s not like any of the highborns Arthur’s run into so far make any effort to be modest. Most ceremonial armor includes suspiciously large codpieces and Arthur, despite having a rather high tolerance for unusual things, can’t help staring now and then. Because _really_?

“So you’re dead serious? I’m just gonna waltz around Atlantis like this?” Arthur pulls a face as he glances down at himself.

“I very much doubt there will be any _waltzing_ involved,” Orm hums, circling him like an aquatic fashion designer apprising their latest model’s outfit. “Maybe some stomping.”

Arthur huffs, rubbing his hands idly over the golden scales covering his hips. The undersuit is stunning, of course. Everything in Atlantis is, when it comes down to it. He’s just not quite used to swimming around in skintight catsuits yet. He’ll get there. Eventually.

“You look…”

“Lemme guess: even more awkward than I did to start with.” Arthur crosses his arms and straightens up just slightly.

Orm’s expression flickers briefly, but he seems otherwise unfazed. Instead, he drifts closer. “You look beautiful. You look like an Atlantean.”

Arthur remembers Orm telling him that he’d worn this undersuit with the ceremonial king’s armor—and thinks that Orm might be somewhat biased in what he’s calling beautiful—but maybe, just maybe, he’ll take it at face value and revel in it.

“Not looking so bad yourself, little brother.” Arthur quirks an eyebrow, giving Orm’s glittering deep blue undersuit a lingering onceover to demonstrate.

Orm laughs and drifts close enough to sling his arms over Arthur’s shoulders. The blue covering his arms against the gold of Arthur’s shoulders and chest make for a striking contrast, and Arthur can’t tear his eyes away for a long moment. When he does, he meets that sky-blue gaze head on and realizes that Orm might’ve been planning this on purpose, what with the natural contrast of their eyes.

“You’d make a killing on the surface.” Arthur tells him, rubbing their noses together. “The fashion industry’s fuckin’ crazy, but you’d knock ‘em dead.”


	7. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically take a look at any frame in the movie where Orm's yelling/screaming. Boy's got some chompers.

It didn’t take long for both of them to become almost obsessed with each other; intensely focused on exploring all the physiological differences that demarcate a purebred Atlantean and a hybrid from the surface. 

One of the most fascinating differences Arthur found himself focusing on was the discovery that Orm’s teeth are significantly sharper than his own.

It’s not like looking at someone out of _Interview with the Vampire_ or anything. But his canines are sharp enough to cause some serious damage and the front incisors are way more effective than the setup most humans have. It makes sense, since Atlanteans deal with a diet comprised of anything from sharks to shellfish. And most of them crack the actually shelled shellfish open with their teeth.

Still, that doesn’t stop Arthur from occasionally prying Orm’s mouth open to rub the pads of his fingers over those canines. Most of the time it doesn’t prompt much of a reaction besides faint annoyance, but if Orm’s already in a bit of a mood, he does run a risk of getting bit. It’s happened before and Arthur is fully willing to admit it takes him by surprise.

He’s spent his entire life invulnerable to the point of not really knowing what getting hurt feels like...beyond catching the occasional grenade to the chest, obviously. Getting dragged down to Atlantis and then chased around the world by a pack of Atlantis-backed mercenaries gave him a nice crash course into the concept, though he’s still intrigued by it. Like a kid waving their hand over an open flame because they know it’s dangerous but they want to see how close they can stray without getting burned.

“I’m beginning to think you’ve developed some sort of fetish.” Orm scowls, physically pulling Arthur’s hand away by the wrist. “Your hands are filthy. Keep them out of my mouth.”

Arthur puts on the best pout he can muster. “But you’re like a shark, little brother. It’s _cool_.”

Orm rolls his eyes and flops onto his back. “I am not _remotely_ like a shark.”

Feeling just a little daring, Arthur starts walking his fingers over the broad span of Orm’s nearest shoulder. He walks them up the side of Orm’s throat, until Orm’s gaze slides his direction and narrows fractionally. 

“I suppose you can’t claim you weren’t asking for it.”

The next thing Arthur knows, he’s flat on his back in the sheets, with his brother looming over him in the fading evening light. Those blue eyes seem almost illuminated from the inside as Orm moves closer and Arthur’s breath catches purely out of reflex.

Then, his breath stutters out of him in a startled grunt as Orm strikes like a snake and sinks those sharp teeth into the join of his neck and shoulder.

“Holy fuck-” Arthur manages once he has the breath for it.

Orm lets up from the bite in short order, licking a hint of crimson off his upper lip with a deft swipe of his tongue. He braces both hands on Arthur’s chest, rolling his hips back to shift with his weight, then raises an eyebrow when his ass comes up against some pretty blatant evidence of what Arthur thought about that little display.

“Hmph,” he mutters, giving a halfhearted roll of his eyes before grinding back against Arthur’s clothed erection with intent. “Like I said. Fetish.”

“Not a fetish.” Arthur protests, though he’s getting steadily more breathless and unable to argue as Orm keeps grinding back on his dick and smirking down at him like a predator that’s just spotted some helpless prey. “Swear to God. I just fuckin’ like the teeth.”

“Oh, you _like_ my teeth, do you? They’re hardly different than yours, you know. This obsession is just strange.”

Arthur finally gets his hands in play and gives Orm’s waist a firm squeeze, jerking him back into the cradle of his hips while the heat coiling in the pit of his stomach starts winding tighter. They lapse into silence for a bit—broken occasionally by a gasp or a grunt—and Arthur finds himself entranced by the way Orm seems to lose himself in their rhythm. He’s so fluid and effortless with his movements that it’s almost like watching him in the water.

He seems to come out of whatever trance he’d been in with frightening speed, however. His eyes lock on Arthur’s, and Arthur can tell what he’s about to do the second before he strikes again.

This time, the skin is already tender and healing, so the bright points of paint where Orm’s teeth sink in are even more intense. Arthur groans and thrusts up against Orm’s weight, gritting his teeth as his orgasm is dragged out of him almost before he’s ready, leaving him wet and uncomfortable under Orm but entirely satiated.

Orm, on the other hand, digs his teeth in harder and ruts aggressively against his brother. It takes a handful of thrusts and a sharp whine before he finds his own release. Once it’s over, he collapses atop Arthur and rests a hand over the bleeding wound. “Idiot,” he murmurs.


	8. Sea Fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I followed the prompt exactly but [these](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alcyonacea) are the actual critters out there that go by this name.

“Orm.”

“Hey.”

_”Ormi-”_

“Oh for-” Orm looks up from where he’d been examining a display of varying types of fish food. _”What?”_

Arthur takes the fan of plastic coral in his hand and waves it daintily in front of his face, batting his eyes at Orm over the edge of it. At best, he’s hoping to get a snort out of his brother. At worst, maybe a smack over the head. What he’s _not_ expecting is for Orm’s eyes to slit with rage and for him to close the space between them to back Arthur up against the wall across the aisle with a loud crunch of whatever was on the shelves.

“Did you _kill_ that creature for a _joke_?” Orm snarls, one hand raising to either snatch it away or sock him.

“It’s fake!” Arthur yelps, holding both hands up and clutching the plastic accessory a little tighter. “Dude, it’s fake. Swear to God.”

Orm’s expression does something complicated before he does reach up to snatch the coral out of his hand. Target acquired, he examines it closely. 

Arthur just watches, both startled and a little bemused. 

“I suppose I should give humans credit with their talent for creating impressive likenesses,” he sniffs, then wrinkles his nose when he gets a whiff of what Arthur can only assume is the brand new plastic scent of the little fan. 

Arthur slumps against the shelves at his back and gives his brother a faint smile. Baby steps. It’s all a collection of baby steps and they’re doing great, actually.

“You really should know me better than that, little brother.” He pushes off the wall and puts a hand on Orm’s nearest shoulder. “I’m the same sort of eco-warrior you are, remember.”

Orm makes a face that says exactly what he thinks about Arthur’s brand of problem solving, but he leans into Arthur’s hand even so. “I believe we were here to get food for your father’s fish.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, Ormi.”


	9. Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Sparring](https://brodinsons.tumblr.com/post/183638414605/justiceleague-jason-momoa-and-patrick-wilson). Just because.

Arthur furrows his brow and watches Orm circle him, mildly perplexed by what the point of this exercise might be.

“I thought you guys were all about the tridents and the spears,” he says, gesturing to where their twinned weapons are resting against the wall of the lighthouse. “What’s this dinky little shank shit about?”

Orm snorts, still prowling around him with the nasty little knife held tight to the outside of his forearm. “Our worlds aren’t so different in that sense. You should have experience with a variety of weapons if you want to succeed as a leader of a kingdom prone to militaristic exploits.”

Arthur finds himself torn between pride at Orm finally admitting that the sea and the surface aren’t so different after all, and annoyance that Orm thinks he hasn’t seen his fair share of bar fights. Well, he does have a fraction of a point there. Since most bar fights Arthur’s seen didn’t involve weapons capable of actually harming him. 

While he’s distracted thinking about the looks on the faces of the wasted guys who tried sticking him with knives and pool cues—only to see the blade or wood shatter against Atlantean skin—Arthur barely gets his hands up in time to block Orm’s charge.

He has no weapon himself, so apparently the goal is to disarm his brother and not get stuck in the process. Alright, fine.

Arthur grabs Orm’s forearm as he goes for a low jab and _yanks_ so he goes tumbling ass over teakettle across the grass. Orm’s smaller, lighter, and faster. Arthur already knows his advantages. So he needs to utilize his own size and strength to counter them. As Orm comes darting back, Arthur dodges the first onslaught at the last possible second. Then, he meets Orm head-on as he comes back around. 

He grabs Orm by both wrists and uses his superior weight to wrest Orm off his feet and pin him on the ground with both arms arced above his head; helpless.

They both pant at each other for a few moments, before Orm reluctantly lets go of his knife and lets it tip over into the grass. Arthur eyes it, admiring the craftsmanship of the inlaid silver in the hilt, then flicks his gaze back to his little brother’s.

“...I suppose you aren’t incapable of being taught after all,” Orm says, giving him a sly look. “You just have to want to learn the lesson.”

Arthur laughs and tightens his grip on Orm’s wrists as he leans down to kiss that sharp mouth.


	10. Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I fell off the bandwagon yesterday because I had no fucking clue what to write for this. Bear with me.


	11. Pinch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crabs. Why'd it have to be crabs?

“Woah!”

Arthur lurches out of range of the Brine King’s remaining arm and brings the trident up to bear before Orm lays a hand on his arm, indicating that escalating is not the answer at present.

“Okay, let’s try that again,” he says, cutting a glare at his little brother before facing the other king directly. “I sincerely apologize for my brother’s actions and I’d like to know what sort of reparations Atlantis can offer.”

The Brine King snaps his pincers somewhat menacingly, but doesn’t make a move to actually attack this time. He reaches down to pick his gnarled trident up off the ocean floor and _plonks_ it down hilt-first at his side as he seems to consider the offer.

“The little bugger himself is off the table, I take it?”

Arthur narrows his eyes and tightens his grip on the golden shaft of his own trident. “That would be correct, yes.”

The massive crustacean makes a disgruntled sound. “Ach. Supplies, then. And medical aid. And make it snappy.”

“Very well.” Arthur nods, but stops short of bowing. “I will speak with my advisors and send what we can.”

The Brine King grunts, and turns to leave. Then, he pauses and drives the trident’s hilt into the silt in order to point at the two of them with that massive claw. “And don’t you go thinking this makes us _friends_ , you surface-born interloper.”

He punctuates that particular statement with a loud snap of the pincers.


	12. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Mother's Day here in the US and I spent the day wondering how I was going to fill the original prompt on the list and decided to improvise. So here we are.

“Oh, my beautiful boys.”

Orm nestles closer to their mother, drawing those long legs up onto the couch as he rests his head on her shoulder and closes his eyes in what Arthur can only describe as bliss.

Arthur’s on her other side, mirroring Orm and just watching both of them. He had to spend the morning explaining the concept of _Mother’s Day_ to a skeptical Orm, but then once he grasped it, Orm ended up orchestrating the rest of the day to cater specifically to Atlanna’s every whim. 

They normally try to accommodate her however they can, but today was above and beyond “normal”. Arthur left most of it in Orm’s hands, happy enough to be ordered around to get the meals ready or clean the kitchen or tidy the bedrooms. It was more than worth it to watch Orm’s expression brighten steadily through the day every time Atlanna turned to smile at him.

Now, they’re all curled together on the couch while Tom busies himself in the kitchen with the dessert dishes. 

“I love both of you so much,” she says, leaning to her right and then her left to place a kiss on their foreheads. “ _So much_. Sometimes it feels like I might burst with it.”

Arthur thinks about the queen who voluntarily returned to a monster to save her first son, and then spent twenty years trying to escape an interdimensional prison in order to save both her children. He knows he’ll never truly understand the depths of her love for them, but he likes to think he’s learning. They all are.

“I thought I’d never see you again.” Orm’s nearest hand reflexively clutches at the hem of her shirt and Atlanna cradles the crown of his head in her palm, gentle and soothing.

“And that is why we all must treasure every day as it comes, mm?” She addresses them both, petting Arthur’s mane as he tucks himself closer. “All we can do is embrace every moment that the gods see fit to grant us.”

Arthur doesn’t hold too much stock in Atlantis’s pantheon—or any pantheon, for that matter—but their mother’s words ring true all the same. _Carpe diem_. Seize the day, and all that.

“Love you too, Mom,” he murmurs, reaching over to close his hand around Orm’s so they’re both clutching the hem of her shirt, like the little boys they almost weren’t allowed to be.


	13. Viperfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [This](http://www.science-rumors.com/top-20-pacific-viperfish-facts-to-know-what-this-creature-is/) is the species known as viperfish. You're welcome.

Despite an adolescence spent diving into wrecks off Maine’s coast and chasing the marine life that inevitably showed up to investigate this strange aquatic human, Arthur’s never actually tried diving in the deepest parts of the oceans. 

Sure, Vulko gave him his lessons and taught him the best speeds to adjust to the crushing pressure of water dark enough that no light can penetrate it. But he never took the plunge, as it were. So it’s kind of fortuitous that he gets to experience it for the first time with the brother he’s always dreamed of meeting.

They’re making their way into the Marianas Trench—which took some convincing on Orm’s part, since this is partially within the Kingdom of the Trench’s territory, but Arthur reminded him that the Trench answer to him now—and the darkness gradually swallowing them is a little more intimidating than Arthur was anticipating. Sure, diving in wrecks was creepy when he was a kid, but this is something different altogether. 

He can see Orm’s irises refracting light that barely exists as they descend, and finds himself entranced even as the light fades and he can see nothing else. His own eyes refract similarly, but he’s seen that often enough over the years. He’s more distracted by the blue of Orm’s as opposed to his gold.

Once he manages to tear his gaze away from his little brother, he nearly smacks face-first into a maw of sharp needle-like teeth.

_Big. Stupid. Watch it._

Arthur awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck, giving the creature some space as it snaps its oversized jaws and eyes him suspiciously.

“Yeah, sorry. Didn’t see you there. Good hunting?”

There’s no mental reply to that, but at least the viperfish seems placated. It stares at him a little longer, then fades away into the omnipresent darkness.

“Who in the hells are you talking to?”

Orm swims up behind him and Arthur can just make out his confused scowl.

“Oh, nobody. Just a local.”


	14. Light in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it a dream? Is it real? You decide.

The searchlight at the peak of the lighthouse cuts through the rain effortlessly, scything out over the ocean at steady, reliable intervals as the storm rages on.

Arthur thrashes on the surface, coughing as wave after wave crashes over his head and tries to push him further from shore. He _knows_ he can breathe perfectly fine, but for some reason his body refuses to abide by logic. His frantic kicking finally yields some forward movement and he presses his advantage to start stroking as hard as he can with both arms. Even with all that effort, he moves forward at a snail’s pace. 

He can’t hear any marine life around him, which should be frighteningly strange, but all he can focus on is getting back to the lighthouse.

Then, in between the forks of lightning and crashes of thunder-

“Arthur!”

He shakes off a blow from another wave and squints through the sheets of dark rain, trying to make out anything ahead of him. There, on the end of the dock-

His brother is practically _glowing_ ; dressed in a silver undersuit like their mother’s with his arms outstretched above his head, eyes lit electric blue as he manipulates the storm and the waves.

“Arthur!” Orm shouts again, teeth bared as thunder roars overhead.

Arthur swims harder than he can remember doing in his life, eyes locked on the vision of his brother standing at the end of the dock. The sweeping arcs from the lighthouse fade in the background as Orm takes up all of his focus.

Finally, when it’s within reach, Arthur _lunges_ for the dock and yelps as his chest smacks against the drenched wood while he scrabbles for a handhold. As he struggles, a pair of pale hands reach down and grip him under his elbows, promptly hauling him to his feet. 

The rain is gentler once he’s standing under his own power, and he can’t tear his gaze away from the radiant vision his brother makes standing there with the storm at his command.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Orm murmurs, taking Arthur’s face between his hands.

“Never.” Arthur shakes his head, then buries his face in the crook of Orm’s neck, letting all the tension seep out as he realizes that he’s finally home.


	15. Undersea Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you look at the Council of the Kings after Manta's arrival, it actually is still partially standing.

“You really hired Manta to blow this whole place up, huh?”

Arthur trails his fingers over the fallen portion of the statue of Xebel’s first king. Only half the stone council are still standing and he wonders if it’s an omen that Atlan’s among them. Though he is missing the arm that held his trident aloft.

“A mistake, in hindsight,” Orm replies, floating between the shattered statues with a conflicted expression. “Surface dwellers shouldn’t be trusted with anything. Even in moments of desperation.”

Arthur glances up, frowning slightly as he observes his brother’s approach. “He’s not your fault, you know. Not _entirely_. He’s ours. And we need to buck up and deal with it.”

Orm sighs, gazing at the sand covering most of the elaborate dias before staring up at the towering figures and their traditional weaponry. Or what remains of them.

“You accept responsibility for things beyond your control far too readily and you forgive those who don’t deserve it far too easily,” he muses, finally turning his gaze back on Arthur. “Those are not the qualities of a king.”

Arthur shrugs and drifts closer. “Yeah, well, blame the kid who grew up on the surface without all the fancy royal shit down here. I already told all you guys I’m no king.”

“And yet our forefather declared you worthy. As did the karathen. You may not _want_ to be king, but it is very rarely about what one _wants_. As I’m sure you’re learning.”

If there’s one thing about Orm, he has this knack of cutting right to the heart of a discussion rather than dancing around the edges. He has no patience for artifice—now that all his own walls and masks have been torn down—and applies that equally to just about everyone. 

“Hey, you wanna sit your butt back on that pearly throne? I’ve been trying to get you to for months,” Arthur coaxes, drifting around Atlan’s head so Orm has to follow him to maintain eye contact. “We can share it. Hell, that’s what we should’ve been doing from the start. You know it. I know it.”

Orm eyes him with some amount of exasperation. But Arthur knows a smile when he sees one and that is definitely the start of one tugging at the corner of his little brother’s mouth.

He grins back, all sunny optimism in the face of Orm’s persistent pessimism.


	16. Sea Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoops.

[source](https://justiceleague.tumblr.com/post/183436515866/the-tylosaurus-is-part-of-the-mosasaur-family)


	17. Bathysphere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoops x 2.


	18. the ocean is deep and cold so you need to bundle up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A roundabout way of filling the prompt.

Arthur’s in the middle of wrapping a scarf around his brother’s neck and over his nose when he gets the most potent death glare he’s ever been on the receiving end of. Naturally, he pauses.

“We are designed to survive in the Marianas Trench.” Orm informs him, his voice slightly muffled behind the material of the scarf. “This is both pointless and a waste of time.”

Arthur grins, taking a moment to admire Orm in his borrowed sweater, scarf, and gloves. “Yeah, but Mom’s gonna tan my hide if we go out and you aren’t bundled up. You ain’t seen snow before, little brother. It’s chilly.”

Orm continues to glare at him, but he makes no move to pull the scarf or gloves off. Bringing up anything related to Mom is usually a guaranteed KO for any resistance from him. Arthur knows it’s a little unfair, but he also knows not to abuse it. Only invoke the M-word when it’s absolutely necessary.

He pulls his own beanie a little further down on his head and moves to open the front door.

“See?” He says, gesturing at the flurries already blowing inside as Orm scrunches his nose and squints into the chilled breeze. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

Arthur leads the way outside and closes the door behind them, then shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and gestures towards town with a shoulder. Orm follows wordlessly, only glancing back once to see Atlanna waving them off from the living room window. The lighthouse fades into the distance as they walk and the further away they get, the more Orm’s attention turns to the flurries of white flakes whirling around them.

He manages to wriggle his way over the edge of the scarf to stick his tongue out and catch a few, which prompts Arthur to snicker.

“Tasty?”

“Not particularly, no,” Orm hums in reply, a contemplative look settling onto his features as he reaches up to pull the scarf back up over a suspiciously pink nose. “So snow is...frozen rain, yes?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Arthur nods, kicking at a few drifts on the path as they pass by. “I’m gonna show you how snowball fights work in a bit. Just you wait.”

“If it involves combat, I doubt you’ll be teaching me much of anything, Arthur.”


	19. Jellyfish Couture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was practically tailor-made for shenanigans.

“Wait, so you’re telling me this shit is _normal_ for you guys? You just snag some handy jellyfish and whoop, here’s a dress? I thought that was like...a power play or something.”

Orm rubs a hand over his face, clearly praying to any number of deities for patience that’s rapidly eluding him.

“For the last time, Arthur, Mera’s gown is a creation meant to be worn for ceremonial occasions only,” he sighs, crossing both arms over his chest. “Just as the armor you first saw me in—which I have been trying _very hard_ to get you to wear, mind—is only meant to be worn decoratively. It’s about the statement. Surely you understand that much.”

“Well, yeah....but that doesn’t change the fact that those _actual live jellyfish-_ ” Arthur gesticulates wildly at the back of Mera’s gown. “-aren’t happy about being whipped up into some clothes for some royal.”

Orm’s brow creases.

“...are they..making that known to you?”

“Uh, _yeah_? Why else would I have brought it up?” Arthur points at his own head this time, likely intending to illustrate where exactly his abilities are allowing him to hear the complaints.

Orm glances at Mera. Mera makes eye contact, briefly, then glances at Arthur.

“You want to...erm…?” She turns to present her back, and the jellyfish in question.

Arthur sighs, but Orm observes a remarkable lack of eye rolling as he swims close enough to gently detach the creatures from the elaborate back of the gown. In fact, Orm can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Arthur be as cautious and gentle with something as he’s being with the gelatinous creatures. 

Once they’re all free, Mera swims forward and turns around to give them both a narrow look. 

“You could’ve just _told me_ not to wear it, you dick,” she grouses at Orm.

“I wasn’t aware there was a problem!” He immediately raises his hands, professing his innocence.

Arthur _harumphs_ loudly.


	20. ...In Space!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the [Watchtower](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Justice_League_Watchtower).

The first time Arthur takes Orm to the Watchtower is a surprisingly drama-free event.

Everyone in the League has taken to the idea that the guy responsible for almost wiping humanity out is chill so long as he’s with his brother pretty well. Wayne isn’t sold, and Victor is a little iffy. But Diana and Barry are surprisingly fine with it. Arthur credits the similar histories of Atlantis and Themyscira for Diana. As for Barry? Who knows.

It is quite something to see his brother standing in front of one of the massive viewscreens and silhouetted by the glow of their little blue planet.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?”

Arthur makes a questioning noise in his throat.

“Being so far from home.”

Ah.

Arthur walks up behind his brother and slips his arms around Orm’s waist. He gets a vaguely disgruntled sound for his trouble, but Orm actually lays a hand on his forearm rather than pushing him away, so he takes the victory for what it is.

“The whole planet’s our home, little brother,” he murmurs, resting his chin on Orm’s shoulder. “Just like Mom’s always telling us.”


End file.
